In his lifetime, which ended all too soon in 1992, prolific Orange County playwright Jack Sharkey was well acquainted with the local community theater scene, attending performances — and often even rehearsals — of his shows, written under a handful of pseudonyms.
This experience served him well for “Play On,” a backstage comedy he wrote under the alias of Rick Abbott about a theater group tackling a mystery play written by a local author, who keeps changing her script right up to opening night. It proved to be one of Sharkey’s most popular projects.
The Costa Mesa Civic Playhouse has seized on “Play On” as its current production, pulling out all the stops of self-satirization in a rollicking package both witty and wacky. Anyone who’s ever been involved in a community theater production will experience particular delight in this show.
The Sharkey/Abbott script is governed by Murphy’s Law — anything that possibly can go wrong does so during shaky rehearsals and a disastrous opening night. Director Ryan Holihan opens up the backstage area to expose the merriment behind the scenes.
Driving the comedy with a vengeance are the husband-and-wife team of Mike and Barbara Brown as, respectively, the harried director of this opus and the fluttery playwright who strings together alliterative phrases like “Dehli diamond” and “dreadful demise” shamelessly.
The “cast” members are well represented as well. Marc Montminy draws the most chuckles as the tipsy host of the gathering, while Laura Lindahl casts a comical glow as the play’s heroine who has a problem with emphasis on such words as “content.”
Melanie Marshall maintains a regal attitude while fending off comments about her physical abundance.
Elizabeth Bouton gives her stage manager character a rich dose of Southern-accented sass, while Tiffany McQuay scores as the irritable operator of the sound and lighting effects.
Playgoers are advised to arrive early in order to peruse the program and its cast biography section. Instead of the actors’ bios, they’ll find detailed sketches of the characters they’re playing. Even the backstage technicians throw in a reference to a vintage movie comedy that older audiences will pick up on.
“Play On” does just that, often hilariously, to an appreciative audience which, on opening night, included the playwright’s widow, Pat Sharkey. Think of it as the American version of “Noises Off.”